_Prom._[143] Thou firmament of God, and swift-winged winds, Ye springs of rivers, and of ocean waves That smile innumerous! Mother of us all, 90 O Earth, and Sun's all-seeing eye, behold, I pray, what I a God from Gods endure. Behold in what foul case I for ten thousand years Shall struggle in my woe, In these unseemly chains. Such doom the new-made Monarch of the Blest Hath now devised for me. Woe, woe! The present and the oncoming pang I wail, as I search out The place and hour when end of all these ills Shall dawn on me at last. 100 What say I? All too clearly I foresee The things that come, and nought of pain shall be By me unlooked-for; but I needs must bear My destiny as best I may, knowing well The might resistless of Necessity. And neither may I speak of this my fate, Nor hold my peace. For I, poor I, through giving Great gifts to mortal men, am prisoner made In these fast fetters; yea, in fennel stalk[144] I snatched the hidden spring of stolen fire, Which is to men a teacher of all arts, 110 Their chief resource. And now this penalty Of that offence I pay, fast riveted In chains beneath the open firmament. Ha! ha! What now? What sound, what odour floats invisibly?[145] Is it of God or man, or blending both? And has one come to the remotest rock To look upon my woes? Or what wills he? Behold me bound, a God to evil doomed, The foe of Zeus, and held In hatred by all Gods 120 Who tread the courts of Zeus: And this for my great love, Too great, for mortal men. Ah me! what rustling sounds Hear I of birds not far? With the light whirr of wings The air re-echoeth: All that draws nigh to me is cause of fear.[146] _Enter Chorus of_ Ocean Nymphs, _with wings, floating in the air_[147] _Chor._ Nay, fear thou nought: in love All our array of wings In eager race hath come 130 To this high peak, full hardly gaining o'er Our Father's mind and will; And the swift-rushing breezes bore me on: For lo! the echoing sound of blows on iron Pierced to our cave's recess, and put to flight My shamefast modesty, And I in unshod haste, on winged car, To thee rushed hitherward. _Prom._ Ah me! ah me! Offspring of Tethys blest with many a child, 140 Daughters of Old Okeanos that rolls Round all the earth with never-sleeping stream, Behold ye me, and see With what chains fettered fast, I on the topmost crags of this ravine Shall keep my sentry-post unenviable.